


Children and Fools

by Go_Fic_Yourself



Category: Avengers, Hawkeye - Fandom
Genre: Cannon Typical Violence, Clint Barton is a train wreck, Divorce, F/F, Failed Relationships, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:24:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4202637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Go_Fic_Yourself/pseuds/Go_Fic_Yourself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Clint Barton falls in love he falls hard, he falls fast and inevitably the pavement comes up to meet him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Children and Fools

It was their first mission together (Natasha's first mission with SHIELD period) and Clint had just watched her snap a man's neck with her thighs. 

"I think I might be in love with you." He said, only half joking.

"Love is for children and fools." 

The awe flew from his face and was replaced by a smile as tight as a bowstring. "I guess it makes sense that I'm both then."

Natasha had only responded with a flash of teeth that seemed equal parts snarl and smile.

\------

The next time, they were sweaty and sated in each other's arms, his head on her chest, listening to the unwavering beat of her heart (wishing that any part of himself were that steady). 

They were on an op playing the roles of married jet setters conducting an affair while abroad. Their bodies were wrapped in astronomically high thread count sheets (rather than SHIELD issue, medical or emergency blankets), the lights were low and she had just done something to him that was probably illegal in the country they were currently in. 

"I love being with you like this." He sighed, sinking one of his hands into her hair. Hoping his words were vague enough that she would choose to misunderstand his meaning. 

"Clint." She said, her voice taking on the cold tone that he increasingly feared was the closest thing to "her" that he'd ever hear. "Love isn't something I can give you." She said. It was matter of fact, but not aimed to hurt him. "This," she guestured vaguely at their twined forms, "I can give you." Not for the first time he was reminded that English was not her first language. There was no trace of accent, no flawed syntax, no lack of vocabulary, just a profound sense that she would be more comfortable having this conversation in Russian. If she still had a heart, that was the language it spoke. "But I will never love you. I trust you and care about you as much as I am able. If you die I will hunt down and kill every single person responsible, but I don't love you."

"Love is for children and fools?" He sneered, the words still clear in his head, as though they hadn't been said years before. 

She brushed his hair back from his forehead even as he refused to meet her eyes. "Love is for people who can love. Children and fools love easily, blindly. That's how you try to love me, Clint. You're far from blind. If you can love, I hope you find someone, but it won't be me, and it won't be easy."

\----

She was right, of course, but life at SHIELD had put things like friendship, love and home on the table for the first time since he was a child. Sure, it wasn't ideal, but he spent most of his time in the same place, with the same people, people that he didn't feel damaged around (damaged was par for the course at SHIELD). So when the chance arose, he took the shot. 

\----

Aside from being gorgeous and deadly, Bobbi was funny and fought with a staff (to someone who used a bow, it seemed like fate that they had ended up on assignment together while Natasha healed up after an op gone south). 

They worked well together (not as well as he and Natasha, but no one worked as well with anyone else as they did when paired with Natasha). After the mission they had tapas and beer and didn't check into the safe house until dawn. 

Months later (he had learned some caution) when he said he loved her, she said it back.

Life was still pain and secrecy and blood, but it was also her laughter, waking up together and cooking breakfast in their pajamas. 

They got married. 

\----

Clint had been blind. Bobbi was still all of the things he'd initially thought she was. Gorgeous, funny and deadly, but he had missed things about her.

\----

They parted.

It was mutual, their relationship frayed and straining before she did something that he couldn't forgive. There were few lines he could draw without being a hypocrite, but those he did, she crossed in one step.

\----

Natasha found him before he could completely self destruct.

"What was that you said about me not being blind?" He mumbled the words into her shoulder.

She sighed, wondering briefly how many breaths she had expelled like this, and how many of them had been over Clint. She had no advice for him.

No words of wisdom she hadn't given him before Bobbi. She had told him once that they loved each other only for the things they added to the other's life, not for how they added to the things that were already there. 

"If you're missing things that are right in front of you, stop looking. Hold still and give someone time to see you. Be the target for once." Even she wasn't sure what that meant, but she hoped it would be enough.

"Maybe." He grumbled into her shoulder, falling asleep as their cab crawled through the New York traffic back to SHIELD headquarters.

\----

He doesn't take her advice (Clint never takes her advice). What he does do is give up. She catches him looking, but he never makes a move, which is good enough for her.

He also adopts what he claims is his "resting face" ("I've always made this face!") but is actually the most unapproachable (adorable) bitch face of all time. 

This does some of her job for her, scaring all but the most interested suitors away from him. She handles the rest.

Until Coulson.

\----

The problem with Coulson was that he managed to insinuate himself into their lives with such unquestionable finality that he was a fully integrated part of it before they had a chance to notice. 

The first time they met was five hours before wheels up, on a mission that involved thousands of man hours in preparation and months of very specific training for them. Their current handler, Agent Thomas Braxton (whom Clint had dubbed "TB") was fifteen minutes late to the pre-mission briefing. Coulson walked in and started conducting the briefing with no explanation, the effect was surreal enough that Clint kept shooting looks at Natasha as if to say, "That's not our handler, right?"  
She gave him a sharp shake of the head and a raised eyebrow of "how can you be this stupid and still be alive?" for his trouble.

At the end of the briefing he asked,"Do you have any questions?"

"Yeah." Clint raised his hand because he's an asshole like that. "Who are you?"

"I'm Agent Coulson. Your handler, Agent Braxton has defected to Latveria. As you can imagine this puts SHIELD in a rather uncomfortable position. Several missions that he was read in on will have to be scrapped. We cannot afford to lose this one. The mission will go ahead." 

"Sir, if the mission is compromised-"

Coulson interrupted her. "I appreciate your concerns, Agent, and if this were any other situation I would be happy to listen to them in full and to take them into consideration. As it is, my orders come straight from Director Fury. We know of no way that this op can effect Latverian interests, so the chances of interference from that front are minimal. We are more concerned with the information being sold to those it will impact. Our only option is to move before they can. Thank you, Agents. Wheels up in thirty." 

"But-" Clint started.

"Agents, if in your opinions your equipment needs have changed due to our accelerated timeline, you have clearance to requisition whatever you deem necessary from the armory or gear stores, they will be expecting you."

"But-" Clint tried again.

"If you cannot be ready in the," he flicked his eyes down to his watch, "twenty-nine minutes you have remaining I suggest you let me know now, I ordered Theta Team to gear up before I walked in. They should be ready any minute. Can you be ready?"  
"Yes, Sir."

Seventeen minutes later they were ready to take off.

\----

The mission went pear shaped.

Clint would spend a good portion of the flight back going on about he didn't know what kind of fruit you wanted things to be, but he was pretty sure pears were the bad one. 

Technically the mission was a success, they got the files they needed, wiped the computers and got their hands on the only prototype, but on Clint's newly established fruit scale, it was a pear or worse.

Natasha was on her way out, sneaking through the shadows of the complex. Clint was in a tree. He had tranq rounds in his rifle and his bow on hand in case shit got real.

Shit got real, real fast. 

The mission had originally been planned to take place at 4:00 AM, local time. With the accelerated timeline it was a little after midnight and a high sound pierced the air, followed by crashes so loud as to indistinguishable from the explosions that followed. Then there was gunfire and screaming. Before the first blast had finished sounding, Clint had switched to his bow, never losing sight of Natasha's movements in the darkness.  
Something big was moving in the fire and rubble near the first explosion. 

\----

By 6:00AM they had been relieved by other SHIELD agents (what had been classified as a two operative mission now had just short of a hundred agents on site) the compound was locked down and they got back in their jet with instructions to take a shower, a nap and report for a debrief. 

Coulson's suit, which had been immaculate not seven hours ago, had long since been written off as a lost cause. 

"Fucking dinosaurs." Clint grumbled. 

Phil and Natasha just nodded. 

\----

Eight hours later, after the flight, mandated shower and nap, they were completing their debrief in Coulson's office over Thai food. 

Clint had entered the room and quickly took up position on the filing cabinet against the wall furthest from the door. If Coulson found this at all strange, he gave no indication.

"Seriously, how the fuck did intel manage to miss that they were making dinosaurs? Someone somewhere let it slip about the brain melting gamma ray thing, but no one ever felt the need to brag about the fact that they were MAKING DINOSAURS?" Clint ranted around a bite of pad prik pao. 

"That is something I'll be finding out." Though Phil's voice was calm, there was something about the set of his jaw that boded ill for those responsible. He sighed. "It did give us the opportunity to take down an entire AIM research compound."

"I'm pretty sure the dinosaurs did most of the taking down, Boss." Clint snorted.

"Regardless. We took down the dinosaurs and the victors write the history, so my report will read that our success was due to our swift action, coordinated movements and the improvisational skills of the assets. I can't say I don't wish the mission had gone according to plan but I am pleased with the results we managed to get from it."

Natasha gave up a rare smile at this, more satisfied than happy, but genuine. 

Clint smiled, then laughed as if he's just remembered something. 

"Something you care to share, Barton?" Phil said, arching an eyebrow. 

"It's just-" he laughed a little more."Fucking dinosaurs, boss!"

\----

Fast forward three years and Budapest happens. 

Budapest is messy. 

Budapest is, on Clint's fruit shaped scale, a pear tree (no partridge), three pineapples and a hand grenade.

It starts as a simple hit, leads to a human trafficking ring, then turns into a rescue mission and ends with Clint bleeding out on a bed of broken down cardboard boxes with Coulson's silk tie packed into the bullet hole to slow the bleeding. From the numbness in his fingers and toes and the cold seeping in, he surmises that it isn't working and says so.

"You're not dying Barton, I wouldn't waste good clothes on someone who was just going to die anyway." At some point he had taken his jacket off and was pressing it to the wound. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his hands to midway up his forearm were stained a glossy red.  
Clint's vision was pulsing a fuzzy black around the edges and it must have shown on his face.

"Keep talking to me, Barton." 

He gives a short, barking laugh that does nothing for the pain or the bleeding. Coulson shoots him a warning look.

"Sorry. It was just funny. I always said you had a sense of humor. Most of the time you're telling me to shut up." 

"Not that it does much good."

Clint looks away and frowns. "Sorry, Boss. I never have been much good at following orders." 

"No, you've always been better than that. You know which orders to follow and when to trust your own judgement."

Clint didn't know what to say to that and went quiet for a minute. 

"Hey, Tasha! If I die that means you have the Stark job."

Where before Natasha's figure had been a still silhouette in the frame of the window, her posture now went truly ridged. 

"Coulson, I don't care if you end up naked, you stop that goddamn bleeding and keep him with us." 

Clint gave a lopsided smile around his gritted teeth. 

"Isn't she the best, boss? Times like this I can almost pretends she loves me. Almost."  
If the situation were any less dire Natasha would be rolling her eyes at Clint's decision to indulge in self pity about his love life rather than the fact that he might be dying.  
Coulson tried to comfort him. "I'm sure Natasha cares about you very much, Clint."

"Cares." He said the word like it was poison. "Everyone cares. No one can love me. Natasha says love is for fools and children."

"Well, you're the most childish person I know, so that must guarantee you'll find love sooner or later."

"Aw, boss. You say the sweetest things. If I had any blood to spare I'd be blushing."

"You're such an asshole, Barton." 

"Yeah. Love you too, Sir." He took a wet sounding breath. "I think I'm going to go to sleep now." 

The whole time that Clint had been speaking he'd been looking lost and as though holding onto his thoughts was becoming more and more difficult. 

"Don't you dare, specialist. You stay awake until evac comes. Consider it a direct order." But they were still eight minutes out and Clint wasn't answering.

Phil kept up the pressure on Clint's wounds and Natasha kept watch over them, listening as Phil's curses became increasingly creative until they heard the sound of helicopter blades cutting the air.


End file.
